A question of life,
Thoughts swirling in strife,
Arriving upon a difficult decision,
To end all the confusion.
To confront or negotiate,
Without having to be considerate.
Both will cause considerable pain.
But maybe, the former will have some gain.
With the mind made up,
Upon a horse's stirrup.
The message sent across,
With a die on the toss.
Fire was met with ice,
Without a hint of war cries.
The bidder losing contact,
To keep the mind intact.
The path ahead lay clear,
With the heart devoid of fear.
Cried the sky with all its might,
On this cold December night...
-Irah
